


What Makes an Individual?

by Rayify



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Feels, Gen, Implied mental illness, Mental Health Issues, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayify/pseuds/Rayify
Summary: Part of that is a set of 'attributes'. Yet, every wild card perceives these attributes differently. By unravelling these perceptions, we uncover facts: Facts to be interpreted; Facts to be feared; Facts to be in awe of. This is a small investigation into the protagonists' social attributes and the ways by which they can and think to improve themselves.





	1. Placebo

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Inspired by this post: rayify.tumblr.com/post/166269027492/the-punning-ubus-you-know-actually-looking-at

Minato was bars and lines in blue overlay: Academics; Charm; and Courage. Arguably, his world view was bland or simplistic. Maybe  _too_  simplistic. Perhaps, even lacking. It got him by though, which was all that mattered to him.

He ran his tongue over his lips, expertly hiding his flinch from the subtle stab of heat from the too-hot coffee now sliding down his throat in a scorching streak. He'd come too many times to Chagall not to learn. His approachability was on the line, after all.

The sneaking suspicion that the 'pheromones' in the coffee he was drinking was a simple placebo wasn't lost on Minato. His grades could  _always_  be better, but he wasn't dumb, and he'd learned it well from Tanaka-san. The slightly higher pricing probably helped to justify it, too.

Well, at least the coffee itself wasn't complete trash. He took the coffee to go as he headed towards Game Panic. Chances were, he'd probably forget about it past the first few sips. It tasted bland in his mouth. Most things did.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the Print Club machines were usually cleared up. Usually, people came to them in groups. For memories. Laughs. Faces scrunched up in forced smiles just to play with sparkle filters and distracting borders.

Today, it was a Friday, however.

He sat down in the booth, eyes glued to a screen surrounded in darkness.

Today, it meant the Horror House booths were open.

As the ambiance surrounded Minato, he settled down for the long haul of jump-scares and things hidden just out of the periphery of his vision. The first time was a bit of a shock, but by now, he was desensitized to the chills and gore. In the many times that he'd sat down to watch these videos, they never really changed, either.

Minato stifled a small yawn as the night drew onward. Once it was over, he was glad to be back in the light, feeling like some part of his legs had fallen asleep. On the bright side, he definitely wouldn't be pissing himself in the Dark Hour once it came.

After a long hike back to the dorm, of course, he would have to get some studying in, even if it was just for an hour or so – clearly unbothered by the fact that if he did, it would be one or two in the morning when he'd finally hit the hay.

Despite all that, Minato wasn't much for sleep. No matter what he did.

Of course, the caffeine from earlier didn't help… Wait, did he remember to pick it back up after finishing up at the arcade?

…Well, whatever.

At least the hole he was boring in his head with his schoolwork would be a more pleasant distraction than just being alone with his thoughts, as he normally was. As much as he would've preferred some music in the background, it distracted him more than it helped. The melodies and words put him in the wrong mindset.

As he groped for his pencil case in the cold, meagre light of his desk lamp, his fingers brushed past glossy photograph paper.

Knowing what it was, but now waiting to sate his curiosity as his brain was yanked out of study-time mode for the briefest moment, he pulled the prints out from his drawer.

Photos of himself with different filters, but with an eerily consistent expression throughout most of them. His face really didn't go well with the sparkles and cute cat filters. For a moment, Minato's expression – the one he was wearing right now – crinkled in frustration.

A placebo. Obligations to fulfil so he could trudge through society.

He had the grades of an honour student – the out of school activities to boot. He even worked on the student council, even if it was only for small chores.

He had the charm to make the school idol swoon, and the smoothness to capture the attention of a cynical, glorified scam artist.

He had the courage to get through the Dark Hour, and could face up to challenges that most people would shy away from.

Minato shoved the pictures back into his drawer.

Was it all in his head? A desperate attempt to make himself feel more likable? Not to others, really… but, to himself?

Quiet. Reserved. Numb. That was him.

Daily distractions. Placebos. Charisma. Ingenuity. Badassery.

The thoughts swirled around on his tongue, and continued for a while as he finally picked up his pen and started writing. He couldn't bring himself to care anymore than he did already.

Tasted worse than he coffee he had that evening.


	2. Galvanized

Minako was seething pink, orange and tear-your-heart-out scarlet, and she saw the world in three bars: Academics; Charm and Courage.

As simple as the layout would be for most people, her effort into those three aspects was fist-curling; blood-nailed. Focusing down Academics meant shoving her face head-down into books with teeth-gritted enthusiasm – even if that enthusiasm was fake. Courage meant brushing off the unexpected, and thrusting herself into the dark abyss of Tartarus night.

And, her Bewitching Charm meant taking every word and dagger glare and letting it all glance off Minako’s armour – hell, even use those against those who’d wish her harm.

If there was one thing she knew, besides her Genius intellect and Badass Courage, it was that her wit couldn’t just deflect. She had to build walls and weapons to defend herself from the piercing insults and bad-mouthing behind her back. Rising to the top of the social ladder wasn’t enough. She had to stomp everyone else back down. She had to lure everyone to her side with the call of her soul-striking voice and looks.

Today, she strode down the school corridors with an unbridled confidence so powerful, it was head-turning. Everyone talked about her, for better or for worse. Guys, for the most part, swooned; girls, for the most part, lashed out with venomous hate and stares. Yet, Minako took the situation all in stride.

In the beginning, she’d considered being frightened off by her apparent competition – she just wanted to spend time with Akihiko, so was there _really_ anything wrong with that? – but once Minako had that idea set in mind, she knew she had to dig her heels in and press the fear deep down.

It was her modus operandi for most situations, actually.

She found Akihiko at his usual spot, blazer slung over his shoulder as he pointedly ignored the fangirls’ giggles and fixated looks. As much as Akihiko might have the heart to call them more like faceless mobs, Minako knew better than that.

A twisted empathy mixed with disdain had taken shape in Minako from listening to the same tirades and glares being shot at her. So, she stared them back, teeth clenched, knuckles white as she tried to rein her disgust back in. Minako certainly didn’t find herself doing it just to get them off of Akihiko’s back, as much as she would hate to admit it.

As the oppressive force shrunk away – even just a little bit – Akihiko gave her the slightest smile of relief as the two of them walked off. Minako met it with one of her own, though parts of her were still on guard for caustic reactions.

From… well, everywhere, really.

If Minako were being honest with herself, the façade she had to continually maintain was a heavy burden to bear, especially when it was nearly daily.

She’d never asked to be saddled with that sort of responsibility. At times, Minako kicked herself for forcing the armour upright each day. Sometimes, she wished that the responsibility of her being the one and only Wild Card in her group wasn’t hers.

After all, if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t _have_ to form all these bonds with these other people. She wouldn’t _have_ to get closer to them. She wouldn’t _have_ to know every single detail about them; every single thing that mattered to them.

Yet, she did. Minako loved being with them.

So, that night, after she’d nearly broken some of the arcade machines, she took a deep breath. Recuperated. Cleaned her armour of the blood, sweat and tears.

She had to become immaculate. The daily onslaught couldn’t hurt her.

It had to galvanize her.

Minako screwed her eyes up tight, and tried to let go of the armour. The perfect wall. If only the others knew how heavy it was.

…If only.


	3. Beacon

Yu, however, had to be sunny and all-rounded, and he had to think of himself as capable enough – no – more than capable enough to peer into the mysteries ahead. He had to be hero, sage and saint at once, shining brightly as a beacon of peak human condition, if only so he really _could_ lead him and his friends out of the fog. If only so he knew that people cared about him back and he wasn’t as empty as he was when he began his journey in Inaba. 

Before all his hard work, he was average. There was nothing spectacular about him. Sometimes, it made him wonder why he, of all people, had to carry the burden of the beacon in the fog. After all, wasn’t he just a nobody transfer student who got shunted around from school to school? Wasn’t the only time that his parents remembered that he existed when they had to move or when he did something wrong?

What was he, but the plain and empty vessel for a light he’d never once thought of holding in his life?

Oh, he knew how to deadpan. How to be unnecessarily serious as a joke. How to be his grey and normal self. But that wouldn’t make people like him. Well, at the very least, it offered no sense of assurance to him on his crusade through the shrouds of mystery ahead.

The muscle memory he developed through folding hundreds of origami cranes and envelopes wasn’t just for the money. It helped him steer his focus away from what he had to become, even if it was for the briefest blinks of time. But, in the end, try as hard as he might to keep his mind off it, the understanding that he’d garnered wasn’t just for the children that needed wishes. Neither was the diligence he’d carved out for the people who needed them.

No, it was for him.

Yu knew it was all so he would have the courage to steel himself even as he and his friends fought against overwhelming odds, because literal lives were on the line. It was all so his sword would be sharp enough to cut down his enemies through his continuous honing and perseverance. It was all so he would have the wisdom to lead his friends through battles as unscathed as possible. It was all so he could curb his friends’ worries with more than just a smile and half-hearted sympathy. It was all It was all so he could cry and see even the smallest bit of himself in his greatest villains and antiheroes when he had his sword against their throats.

It was so he could become the thing of legend that people needed to lead them through the mist.

But… was he?

Could he look back and see the friends he’d gathered following him faithfully through the walls of billowing white? What would he do if he found they were straying from the path? Would he be strong enough to shine a path through the murk when they did?

Yu hoped so, because they were the source of his light. As he persevered to be their lantern to misty Yomi, they were _his_ : They were each other’s mutual and flickering beacons.


	4. Lucifer

Most were all-rounders, and some were even simpler than that. For Ren, however, being _good_ at everything he did wasn’t an option. If he wasn’t the best, he could only consider himself dead. If he wasn’t a god at anything he did, then what good was he?

Nothing.

After all, save for the few friends and accomplices that saved him from this downward spiral, Ren couldn’t trust anyone. He might as well have been on his lonesome. And, if the people around him wouldn’t lend him a hand, then all he could rely on was his self-mastery, and nothing else.

For his friends, Ren kept up a façade. He never let them get _too_ close, even though he was privy to most of their personal struggles. Oh, they knew his situation overall – the false charges, the probation – but, the feelings he kept simmering beneath his mask only surfaced when conflict arose. Even then, his winning smile and composure kept it all under wraps.

He was just… letting some steam off. What’s there to do when you have an abusive and lecherous teacher trying to get you expelled, or a literal corrupt politician trying to give you a life-long sentence beyond bars? His friends had cause to be stressed. _Ren_ had cause to be stressed.

It was natural, obviously.

The frustration wasn’t all of it, though. There was a fear, too; a fear that if he wasn’t the best of the best, then he would find himself no better than the people who’d shipped him off to Tokyo in the first place. Many times, he’d tried shrugging the thought off. It was stupid. Irrational, even.

But the thought that he was just one of the lucky ones also sat at the back of his mind. That if he didn’t find and form the pacts that he did, then he would end up bitter and shrivelled and uncaring, no better – hell, worse off – than when he came to his city-wide prison. That he could become the kind of person that he was now fighting so hard to change.

Maybe that was why Ren threw himself into work. Why he tried – no, _had_ – to better himself.

He had to become smarter than everyone else – a pretentious little erudite to most, but a wise enough leader for his friends.

He had to become braver than everyone else – reckless to the world at large but determined enough to push his fears aside when he needed to.

He had to become smoother than everyone else – forging a silver tongue when, in reality, he needed people to like him and to trust him above all else.

He had to become wittier and more able than everyone else – a daredevil, but also, a noble (if cocky) thief with the skills to get him and his friends out of a pinch.

And… he had to become kinder than everyone else – naïve, maybe, but, really, a battered, near broken person who couldn’t forget his roots.

Though the boundaries of his holding cell seemed so large, even that space could fail him. Even that could turn him black-hearted.

That was why he worked himself to the bone. So he could be his friends’ guiding star in the darkest dawn.


End file.
